Meet the Parents, pt 2
by alan713ch
Summary: Scott realizes he had made a stupid decision by keeping Danny at large. Danny deals with the consequences of his actions. Rafael McCall realizes he may be in supernatural business a bit too deep. Episode 6 of my alternate 3B
1. Prologue

"Stiles, pick up pick up pick up." Scott's voice was strained, he could feel the bond to him but it was weird, just like it had been all day. "I'm getting Allison on the phone!" Isaac was next to him and yet he also needed to yell. They were all on edge. "Tell her and her dad to go straight to Stiles and pick him up!" "Allison!" "Yes, we heard her, she with you?" 'Stilinski Mortuary, they die we make them right', "Stiles, damn it!" "We are at the McCall's - " Scott threw the phone across the room into the bathroom where Lydia was puking into his toilet, his mother behind her trying to help her through the retches, "STILES!" He heard himself howling his best friend's name to the ceiling. Isaac, his mom and even Lydia turned at him like they were enraptured by it. His eyes were glowing red, his vision blurred in the color and in fear. Not Stiles, please not Stiles. Anyone but Stiles. He heard Allison ask what had just happened and Isaac explaining that Stiles was not picking up. Her mom's cellphone and his own both ringed at the same time. She grabbed his and her face told him all he needed to know and caught it mid-throw while her mother picked up hers. "Stiles, where are you?" "Puking - thanks for that, managed to make me stop - where's Lydia?" "John - it was Scott trying to get a hold on Stiles - he just did." "She's here, she needed to stay with my mom. You heard her?" "I felt it. I'm coming." "Allison and her dad are picking you up, if you felt it you are in no condition to drive." "No one has reported any crime yet? You want me to what?" "Alright, I'll wait for them. Is she alright?" "No. No one is." "You want me to do what? John, I barely reached out to them once - fine! Give me one second?" "Mom?" His mom just raised her hand and looked at Lydia. She had already finished retching and now looked at his mother and nodded, holding her hand. He didn't understand what was going on - why was his mom closing her eyes? She gasped. "It's in the mall, they are saying the singer was attacked by witches. No, I don't know who the singer is - I barely got that I am Mother and Scott is the Risen King! USE IT AS AN ANONYMOUS TIP!" "Mom?" "The mall?," Lydia suddenly gasped, "Danny!" "What?" "He was going to have a date with Alex after his parents, no no no no, not Danny, I didn't wail for Danny!" She also got her phone out - but Scott looked at Isaac who tilted his head, showing neck, and back at his mother, who simply said 'Go'. They both bolted out of the window and ran through the woods. Running through them was simple - he could see everything in vivid detail even if it was stained a shade of red, and he was sure Isaac could keep up with him without no problems. He could even feel he was guided through the woods, taking the fastest route from his house to the parking lot of the mall. They heard the sirens in the road. They were close. Suddenly he felt something wrap around his ankle and he fell. Isaac stopped next to him, getting his phone out. "Yes Melissa. Yeah, I'll tell him. Yeah, we'll stay in the border," Isaac hung up and looked at him, "Did you trip?" Scott looked at his ankle - nothing. "I guess? Was that mom?" "Yeah - she says the Sheriff called, saying we should stay in the outskirts, no need to have suspicious people showing up, specially if your dad does. She says he said we should definitely get close but remain hidden. Also, Stiles, Chris and Allison are back at the house now, and they'll be there until we get back. Oh, and next time don't forget your phone." They started walking now, too close to the mall to make any noises. The Police Department was already there and they were waiting for ambulances. They could see the disaster. Cars wrecked, glass everywhere, one of them upside down. Even the woods where they were hiding seemed affected, branches torn and leaves everywhere. There were three bodies in the ground, and Danny was hugging a fourth one. Alex's. Scott immediately moved towards him but Isaac's hand on his shoulder kept him in place. "Lydia? Danny's alright. Alex died. There are other three bodies in the lot, though, for how many did you wail? Just the one. What was the method of death? What?" Scott didn't need to hear the rest of the conversation to know that the death Lydia had wailed for had been Alex's - his blood was pooling from where he had fallen all the way up to Danny holding him, a black stench that reminded him of Gerard Argent, even if it was not the same, the old hunter's a foul vileness, this a stale smell. "Yeah, the Sheriff's already here, Danny was definitely a witness. Scott? What should we do?" "We wait." They saw the Sheriff talking to Danny to no avail. He was in a state of shock and nothing seemed to be able to draw him out of it. Scott wished he could be there, snapping Danny out of it. Out of that miserable state. Suddenly he felt a portion of him in the lot, and he heard the Sheriff speak loud and clearly Danny's name, after having called him Mr. Mahealani for the whole time being. Danny looked up and finally started reacting to what everyone else was telling him. "Did his eyes...?" "Yes." "How?" "I don't know. I don't know." They waited until they saw the ambulance take the bodies and the Sheriff take Danny. Scott wanted to follow them but knew it would be pointless. "Let's go home. We need to know what the fuck just happened." 


	2. Peter

"So, lover boy is back at his house?" "Grandma!" "I just dropped him. He looked happy." "Not tired, not falling asleep?" "No, why?" "He was pushing real hard against the lying spell, I could feel it every second - he has will. Well, he has to if he runs with wolves, but he is something. He'd be a good addition to the coven." "Isn't he one of the guardians?" "Yeah, he's stinking of it. I'm surprised the gates didn't stop him from even entering." "Well, at least we know now that Peter was not lying to us." "And why would I lie to you, Sabrina? I've never lied to you before." "But you've lied to me, Hale, several times." "I'm afraid it has always been on a need basis. I mean, after all, I wanted to remain alive and you were willing to take my pelt and make it a coat. I'm pretty sure it would've looked wonderful with the amber eyes you had at the time." "If I do skin you I'll put sapphires now." "I'd look better with red garnets." "So, Hale, who is this kid?" "Stiles. Probably the most interesting member of that ragtag pack. Not the most powerful, mind you." "And who would that be?" "I don't know. I'd say the puppy, since he's the alpha, but you know I'm lying." "You want the most powerful member to yourself." "Is it the third guardian?" "No. The Argent girl is barely a human. Well trained by her family, yes, and quite spunky when she's bent on revenge, but nothing more." "Then whoever that is, is yours. Will you need help dealing with them?" Peter smiled. He had to claim asylum at their place so Scott wouldn't be able to trace him, and now he was trapped inside. Apparently the spell was so good not even being inside allowed Stiles to detect him. Then again, the child always shunned his capabilities - maybe he still hadn't realized that a human could feel the pack bond as well as a wolf. Good, he could plot away how to regain the dominion of the woods, after he himself killed Scott for the witches. It'd be interesting to savor the power of a True Alpha. "Mom, grandma? Didn't you say we have to kill the guardians?" Peter couldn't help but smirk now. "Has the Maiden fallen in love?" "Shut up, Peter - don't you dare talk back to my daughter." "I'm afraid so, my sweet heart. You've already seen him, he's not even capable of doing a single spell without thinking twice, do you really want that as the guardian of such great powers? Of such great prisons?" "Grandma!" "Darling, you really are falling in love, aren't you?" "Is it wrong? Is it wrong that I am?" Melinda started nodding with her head. Sabrina grabbed her hand and said - "No. It's not wrong that you love him. Peter, what would you say their roles are?" "Sabrina?" "Mom?" "Yes, mother?" "It's obvious that Scott is the body - he is the most powerful, at least physically speaking, of all of them. The Argent girl is a hunter, so strategy and planning are her strengths. I'd peg Stiles for the soul." "Then we don't have to kill him, mother." "You don't know what you are asking for, Sabrina." "I'd ask anything for my daughter - I'll do anything for my daughter. After all, you'd do anything for me, too." Melinda looked at both her girls. Peter couldn't help but bask in the tension, so thick it could be cut with a knife. "I won't do it unless we have the singer. It's too dangerous of a spell." "What is she talking about, mom?" "If he is the soul of the guardian then he needs not to die. The spell is much more complicated though. And you'd be critical in it. You need to ensure he truly loves you." "What, why? What are we talking about?" "It's another spell, my dear, one much more difficult than any you've seen us do." "Have you done it before?" "I did, once, when I was your mother's age. Revenge, in that case." The crone started caressing the small jewel that adorned her neck, the only crystal there. Most of the others were on her fingers or her ears, but only that one separated her head from her body. "You didn't have a singer that time." "I was young back then." "I'll do it - and besides, I won't be alone. Lorena needs to help me." "Wait until we have the singer. I don't want to risk you girls." "It can't be any more difficult than the Fermat curse, can it?" "Oh, my boy, the Fermat curse is a cakewalk compared to what my daughters are proposing. You won't do the Fermat if we do it this way - I'll need you to guard Lorena." "Excuse me, what are we talking about?" "I'm sorry Peter, but that is not of your concern. Why don't you go wander around those woods that like you so much?" Peter knew when he was dismissed. So he walked to the garden - he dared not walk into the woods, afraid that the spell would lose strength and the trees would warn Melissa of his presence. It did him good to be in the open field. The garden contained several kinds of herbs and plants, even wolfsbane, but they were arranged in a way that didn't hurt him. He could breathe in the cold winter chill that was coming unto the town. He just laid there for a few hours. Being in a coma had taught him to be patient. He could wait. He suddenly felt the moon upon the town, shining aggressively. He had never felt a moon this bright or this clear. It was a moon that tried to pierce through his skin, that was attacking him, a moon that felt hurt and was answering back. He had heard the stories - they all had, as wolves, shared them. Of the priests of the moon. Those who could summon moonlight to increase and diminish magic, to attack and protect, to guide and counsel. They had disappeared among the commoners, too afraid of their own powers, too afraid of what it made them to others. Like the Warrens, who'd want to take them as slaves to boost their magic. Like werewolves, who would like to feel the influence of the full moon every moment they needed to fight. Like necromancers, who would be able to hide their activities in the shadows forever. A moonsinger in Beacon Hills. The witches were right, there was at least one. There had always been, and they had fooled him. Fooled the Hales. He felt the rage inside him again flare. Nobody fooled his family and got away with it. But he was powerless now. This moon was not for him - it was against the Warrens, and the moon had seen him consort with them. The moon would no longer sing for him. Stupid mage. By protecting themself they had revealed their presence to the world. And Beacon Hills was bursting with those who would kill to have a moonsinger in their power. He heard Lydia. Music to his ears. So someone related to Scott had died. Maybe the moonsinger decided to pledge for Scott and the Warrens had killed him. No, that wasn't it. The moon was still angry. The moon was still fighting back. Then he heard the cries inside the house. He let himself in, to find Melinda crying desperately, Sabrina holding her daughter and son in an embrace that betrayed their feelings. "You! You said the child was a True Alpha! That he never kills!" "He never does. He's never had. He never will. I know him - I turned him, after all." "Well then, someone else was protecting the singer because my sons are dead now. All of them!" Three witches defeated. And Lydia had wailed for them? Something was not right. And yet it seemed that they hadn't picked on the banshee's scream. Good. She was his. "You said so yourself, Melinda, there are far more creatures interested in the singer. I'd doubt McCall even knows what a moonsinger is." "I don't care. I'm killing him. All of them." "Not Stiles, grandmother, please, not Stiles." "Fine! But it'll be your job, Lorena, to cast that spell. I won't help you." "Please, mother! Now is not the time!" "These were my sons! Whenever I want is the time!" "And they were my brothers! If you want the Nemeton's power you need to keep your cool!" Peter couldn't help but keep smirking. The family was falling apart and he hadn't even had to play a part on it. Let them burn themselves, he thought, and you can be king of the ashes. 


	3. The Sheriff

John looked at the boy sitting in front of him, looking down, eyes hardened and a small tremor in his posture. He didn't know what to say to him, he didn't know if anything he could say would be able to help him at all. This was no longer the Maheleani kid that got arrested for hacking into a big corporate finance database, or the kid Stiles had over his place every once in a while to make homework, that started hanging out more with Stiles and Scott after the dead of the werewolf twins, a boy that according to Lydia was practically perfect in every way and that everybody loved, except for his shitty taste in boyfriends. No, the man sitting in front of him had seen something that had hardened him horribly. John didn't know if he could flat out tell Danny that he had probably seen magic. The crime scene had been something unlike what John Stilinski had seen before, not even when he was deployed, and he was sure it was going to haunt his nightmares. All the cars in the parking lot had their windows smashed, pellets of glass everywhere, and Mahealani's was wrecked, like it had been crashed while perfectly parked. One of them had been flipped, as if a windstorm had gone through the lot. There were burning marks in several places, lines and curves and what looked little explosions. The bodies. They had lines drawn around the first three, all of them in the floor, all of them with their eyes opened glassily looking to the moon above. The first one, blunt trauma to the head and blood gushing out of his stomach. The second, a line of blood crossing his eyes and a stream of scarlet coming out of his barely held together throat. The third, left hand contracted because the nerves were severed in the palm, right hand still in a gesture of grabbing something, a hole beginning in his lower belly and ending in his upper back. It had taken longer to remove Mahealani from the fourth body. He had been craddling it back and forth, holding it close, sobbing silently with each rocking motion. It wasn't until John had spoken to him that he finally looked up and responded, having ignored all the deputies that tried to take him to the ambulance. He had no wounds on his body, but his hands wouldn't stop shaking. One of the two recovered weapons laid nearby, seemingly fallen from the corpse's hand. It was too fresh, rigor mortis wouldn't set for a while yet. John also saw the ash on Mahealani's jeans, that seemed to come from the circle a couple feet from behind. A circle broken, like it had been dispelled or blown through. Or the spark had not ignited. "Mister Mahealani..." "Danny. Everybody calls me Danny. You did back at the parking lot." John had felt a surge of power when he had done so. It had been the only way he would snap out of it. The look he had given him had been one of pure fear. Now he wouldn't even look at him in the eye. "Danny," somehow the boy managed to close himself even more, like he was bracing against the question that needed to be asked, "I know it was horrible but I need to know what happened. I need you to tell me what you saw." "No," Danny whispered, "You don't know how horrible it was, seeing my boyfriend die in the hand of some lunatics that wanted to kidnap me." "Excuse me, son?" "We were coming out of the movies. We were going to grab my car and go back to his place. He doesn't - didn't drive. I was going to spend the night." The pain in his eyes when he corrected himself felt like daggers in John's flesh. "Those three men came out of nowhere and started talking to us. It became obvious at some point that they wanted to kidnap me." "You specifically? Why?" Danny raised his head and looked him in the eye. A bit too hard on the corners. "I have no idea." John didn't need to be a werewolf to know that the kid was lying. But he also knew that unless he officially arrested him he wouldn't be able to proceed with a more thorough interrogation. And he wasn't sure he wanted to. He would have to make sure McCall was nowhere close this case. "Did you see anyone else? Anything else? Those were three fairly built men against you and Mr. Karahalios." "No. Alex - Alex fended them off. His cane - his cane had a sword inside." John had seen it. It was sitting in evidence right now, the only murder weapon that could be associated with the death of the other three men. Alex's death, on the other hand, couldn't be explained by a weapon, since it looked like his insides had leaked out every orifice of his body. The only other thing they had on him were the severe burns on several parts of his body, second and third degree burns that were oddly shaped. Like fists. "Are you saying that Alex killed those men?" "Self-defense." "Why didn't you help him?" "I don't know how to fight. What, just because I play Lacrosse should I be able to fend off assaulters? Ask your son if he can punch anyone, after all he's on the team too." The way Danny looked back scared John. It was a visage of defiance, of him daring the Sheriff of his town to say his boyfriend was guilty of anything. The look of someone in love. "It is still illegal under California law to have a weapon such as that." "What are you going to do with it? What are you going to do with his body?" "The weapon will remain in evidence until we can clarify the crime. It'll probably go to his estate afterwards. The body is currently in the morgue, analyzed. I will have to talk to his lawyer to see what procedures will have to be done afterwards." Danny nodded and looked at the table again. John wasn't certain he would get anything else out of him. So he told him to wait there, asked him if he needed anything and told him that his mother was on his way - he had had a deputy called her explaining the situation. He had to start making some sort of case, or something. Honestly? All he wanted was to go home and talk to everybody in the Pack - again, that word invading his vocabulary - about how a limping kid had defeated three men that had evidently done some fucked up shit to attack them and managed to kill the kid by liquefying his internal organs into some sort of black sludge. If he believed in witches - was there anything he couldn't believe in anymore? Anything that was sacred enough not to be touched by this? - then he could pretend that witches had fought against Alex and he had killed them in order to protect Danny. Because there was something different in Danny, and the portion of him that started to feel happier whenever he was close to the children or Melissa could see it, a shine inside the boy, silver and white and bright like a full moon. So he had to go back to the first question, the one Scott and Stiles told them Finnstock had made a long time ago. Who was Alex? Who had he been? So he made a few phone calls, and typed a few words in his computer. He hoped to have all the documentation by the time he left for home - whether the McCalls or his own, he didn't know. He definitely didn't want to do that research in the office, where McCall's hands would get sticky on those files. "Sheriff? Mrs. Mahealani." He immediately stood up and went outside. There he found Leilani Mahealani and her father, the woman pacing frantically, the man counting the knots in his walking aid. "Mrs. Mahealani, Mr. Mahealani sir. Jake," he called to one of the deputies, "tell Danny that his mother is here to pick him up." "Yes sir." "Why am I here, Sheriff? Was my son arrested?" "Not at all, ma'am. We brought him here because he was going through shock - but he wouldn't let himself be treated by the hospital." "Why wasn't I called to pick him up at the crime scene?" "Do you want the truth? Because I wanted to spare you from seeing your son holding his boyfriend who apparently died preventing him from being abducted. What me and my deputies saw tonight was nothing short of heartbreaking, and I honestly hope Danny recovers from it." The woman covered her mouth, having not expected said answer. Even if it was the truth John didn't know where it had come from, since personal motives are usually not good reasons to follow or break the law. She whispered a thank you before running to hug her son who came out of the back. At the touch of his mother Danny broke down and started crying. John wanted to come closer and comfort him as well. He was reminded of Stiles when he found him in the hospital, uncapable of doing anything until he had arrived and then the little boy broke down because his dad was there and his mother wasn't. The Mahealanis left and he retreated into his office after barking a couple orders regarding the night - he was to leave soon anyways. He had to wait another hour still, so he texted Stiles to let him gather the pack before anything and started browsing through the files. According to what he had, Alexandros Karahalios was born in July 1st, 1994, making him seventeen at the time of his death. He had been the son of Marcus and Sophia Karahalios, the former an important architect and the latter a photographer. They lived most of Alexandros' childhood in Greece, but moved back to the States when he was to start middle school. He went to boarding school and his mother died at the end of the year. His father followed when he turned fifteen, leaving him heir to a large estate from his mother's side. He got into drinking and partying in the East Coast after that, but he stopped at the beginning of the year when he went into treatment. He had left it at the beginning of the school year, where he had spent a couple of months in Neptune but then moved to Beacon Hills. Everything agreed with what Stiles knew of the kid. But something didn't add up, even if he couldn't tell what immediately. He folded the papers and prepared to leave when McCall came into his office. "John." "McCall, what do you want?" "I need all the information you can give me on tonight's events. Participants, lines of study, everything." "I'm sorry McCall - why?" "I'm removing you from the case." "And how is this related to the case you are currently investigating?" "I don't need to answer this. I can tell you, though, that there are other interests that elevate this to a federal investigation. Now, if you please." John reluctantly handled him everything but the folder he had just printed out. He directed McCall to the deputies in charge of the investigation and proceeded to smile and nod and walk outside and drive back to the McCall house, where everybody was waiting for him. 


	4. Melissa

"Scott, sit down, please, you are driving all of us crazy." "Sorry, mom." And yet her son wouldn't sit down, instead pacing the living room back and forth, like a lion in a cage. She was sitting in the couch, Lydia and Stiles immediately next to her. Allison was sitting in a chair while Isaac sat on the floor, resting his head against her thighs. Chris was by the door, guarding it, stiff posture that indicated all his senses were acute. They were waiting for John to come back from the office. They had already drank a lot of coffee, she was not going to give them more. Particularly Stiles. "Scott, please." "What?" Scott stopped and looked at her, and realized he hadn't sat down. He dropped on the sofa, just to start tapping his foot. "OK, bucko, spit it out." "Spit what out, mom?" "Whatever is driving you crazy, Scott," Stiles answered irritably, "because it's driving us crazy. What are you thinking?" "Why Danny? Why Alex? They are not pack. We haven't let them into the pack." He looked at Lydia when he said it. Melissa bit her lip and Lydia gripped her hand a little bit more strongly. The gesture didn't escape her son. "Mom?" Melissa looked up to Chris, who just tilted his head a little. She looked to Lydia, who nodded. "What did the Hales told you about the woods?" Scott, Allison and Stiles all looked at each other. Stiles was the first to speak. "Why are we asking about that?" "You've had more interesting side tracks in your research, Stiles," Lydia countered. "Yeah, that's probably true. Not much - just that they would obey Scott at some point." "Was there any particular wording?" "I can't remember," Allison was frowning, "as a matter of fact, most of the meeting is hazy, like it was a drug induced trip, which I guess we can call it that. The thing that I remember the most was that they said the Nemeton would recognize them as someone who meant us no harm and that's why it empowered them to do what they did. I can't recall Laura's words regarding the woods." "She said something about me being their new guardian," Scott's words were muffled, lost in memory, "something about how she let them go and they should obey me at some point." "Well now everything makes sense, Melissa," she looked scandalized at Chris, the same way everybody did, "particularly due to your role in Blake's sequence of sacrifices." "Mom?" Scott was now afraid - she could feel it. Stiles and Allison looked at her oddly, and Isaac looked like he was lost and confused. "Mrs. McCall? Tell them." 'Mother.' 'The Risen King is afraid for you.' 'He doesn't understand us.' I don't understand you! Now, do you mind?. The woods lingered in the background. "The woods have been talking to me, ever since you found me in the Hale manor." "What?" Scott rose from the sofa immediately and knelt in front of her, offering his hand, trying to see if she was alright, "Why didn't you tell me?" "Because I knew you would react like this? Because I don't want you to be even more stressed?" "Mom! I'm the alpha - I'm supposed to take care of you, all of you!" "And I'm your mother! And I don't care that you are the Big Bad Wolf now, you are still my son, and I will do anything to protect you, understood? I will always take care of you. Now and always." Scott was crying and she knew she was as well. She hugged him so fiercely she would've broken some bones if it weren't because he was a werewolf. "What just happened?" She looked at Stiles who jumped out of his seat, afraid. She kept looking around and everybody was giving her a complete look of fear. "What is it?" Scott looked at her, and his face also showed fear and confusion. He drew his red eyes, like expecting to see a change, but from his expression nothing happened. "Mom, your eyes are red, like mine right now." "What?" She looked up the window, where she saw the iris of her eyes fade from a vibrant red to the usual chocolate brown. She looked at Chris who, out of everyone, seemed the most spooked out of what just happened. That was the moment John entered through the door, fuming. "You guys won't believe what a pain in the ass - what just happened?" "Dad, Mom's eyes were red - have you seen that before?" "What? Is this because of the woods? Wait, you already told them about the woods, right?" She just nodded, still looking at her reflection. 'The Risen King owes his crown to his mother.' 'And the Risen King knows the crown is not his, but his court's.' "It's you, Scott, I think? The woods just said you know the alpha status is not yours alone, but that you share it?" "The woods talk to you?" "They think I'm their Mother?" "Mom!" Scott's face was priceless - he looked like a puppy who suddenly learned he had to share a toy. "I already explained your mother, Scott, it's mostly a title - since the woods seem to be following the rules of the Celtic courts, calling her mother means that they defect to her, until you become worthy of the title." "But why her?" "Because she is your mother, and excuse me for saying this but she's amazing." John's answer had been given warmly, a bit of a smile behind it. Melissa frowned at him, but couldn't help and smile as well. Stiles is the one who talked. "Yeah, she is. Not arguing that. But, why did you ask us about the woods and the Hales, Mrs. McCall, if we are talking about Danny?" "They called him something. The Singer." "The Singer?" "Wait, you said 'Risen King' earlier today, didn't you? Is that Scott?" "Does that mean we all have codenames or something?" "Not codenames," Lydia whispered, "True Names." "True Names? Oh, like in the Celtic Lore? What's mine?" 'The Crossroad's Fool' "I don't think you're gonna like it." "What? Why?" She said it to him. He immediately asked why he was a fool but the woods didn't answer back. "So Danny is The Singer? What kind of singer?" "Lydia, do you remember the first time Danny sat down with us in the cafeteria?" "Yeah, it was when Finstock was still torturing these three, why?" "Danny bought some books - " "Moonsinger! One of the books was about moonsingers!" "What's a moonsinger?" Lydia replied to Stiles' gesture by taking out her phone and putting it on speakerphone. A very awake and aware voice picked up with a very curt and polite 'Yes?'. Deaton. "Doctor Deaton, this is Lydia" "Ah, Mrs. Martin, how can I help?" Everybody looked at Lydia who looked at Scott who looked like he was going to speak. Melissa grabbed his hand and he gazed back, questioning her. She shook her head and hoped that her son trusted her more than his boss. "What can I do for you, Mrs. Martin?" "Sorry to wake you up, but it's an emergency - what do you know about moonsingers?" "The priests of the moon? Just what everybody else does - myths, legends, folk tales. What do you need?" "We know nothing, so if you could please elaborate?" "They are supposed to be an ancient order that disappeared some thousand years ago. Their magic specializes in the moon: summoning light, darkness, shadows, and it's believed that they also can manipulate things that are affected by the moon. Weaken magic. Strengthen werewolves. May I ask, why are you asking this at four in the morning?" "We believe that a moonsinger just got into town." "A moonsinger just got into town? Scott should've felt their presence long before they got here, their signature is very specific." "No..." Lydia looked again at Scott, unsure of what to say. Scott looked at his mother, questions in his face, but Melissa looked at Lydia again, trying to give her ideas. "Not exactly. But we are sure there's a moonsinger in town." "If that's the case you need to contact them immediately. Gain their trust. Bond them to the pack." "Bond them to the pack?" "A moonsinger is a great addition to a pack - think about it, a mage who can control the magic of the moon? It would be a great addition to your flanks." Even Scott seemed scandalized at the idea. "Are you sure of this development, Mrs. Martin?" "Pretty sure. Thank you, Doctor Deaton." "Always a pleasure. Is Scott there, by any chance?" Melissa shook her head. Scott obeyed, and Lydia lied. "Well, in that case you need to contact him immediately. Have him call me if he needs any help." The vet hung up. Melissa looked to her son. "Don't you - " "Mom! I'm not an idiot - that sounded like Deaton wanted me to bite Danny! I'm not going to bite Danny!" "Good, because I would have been the first to shoot you," Chris looked at Scott menacingly, "and you know I mean it." "But does that mean that he's dangerous?" "We didn't get anything from him - just vague answers," John looked at Melissa when he spoke but it was obvious he was addressing Scott, "like usual. We need to find better answers." "I'll check with Amanda - the bookstore owner." "I'll go with you, Lydia." "Someone needs to talk to Danny." "I'll do it," Scott stood up again and started pacing, "it's my responsibility as the Alpha." "Do you want any of us with you?" "No - he was just attacked by three witches because of who he is. He doesn't need to be crowded." "We also have something else. Two things, actually?" John was not happy to bring more news to the table. "McCall called me off the investigation, so we'll have to lay low in our investigations. And," he suddenly looked more tired, like he didn't want to speak at all, "I know I'm probably horrible for just thinking this, but something doesn't make sense about Alex. He's a cripple who according to Danny defeated three well built men without sustaining injuries and then he suddenly died by having his blood pour out of his every orifice." "Danny may have bewitched the witches?" "No - you heard Deaton, moonsingers deal with the magic of the moon. He may have diminished their magic but he couldn't change the fact that they were what looked like very athletic men." "Danny helped?" "Danny was enclosed in a circle of mountain ash. A circle that he did not do." "How - ?" "The handler in Alex's cane had a glass vial that was completely destroyed. A cane that included a sword inside if I haven't mentioned it." "No, dad, you hadn't." "What are you saying, John?" "I'm not saying anything, but I think we also need to answer Finstock's question - who was Alex?" "I'll see him later today, I have Econ." "Oh no - none of you are going to school - you haven't slept at all!" "Mom!" "Listen to me young man! All of you are staying and are going to bed - I don't care about the arrangement as long as all the clothes stay on. I'm going to the hospital to try and get whatever info I can get on Alex's morgue report, John you need to go back to the Station and get whatever you can on the dead witches - names, id's, something, this is the closest we'll get to find out who they are. Chris, you go help him. We'll be back before noon, by the time we'll decide on how to approach Daniel. Understood?" "Scott, did your mom just totally outranked you?" "Stiles!" 


	5. Danny

For a school day Danny was sure it was pretty late in the morning when he finally woke up. The sun was up and shining, there were birds chirping outside his window, and he could smell his mom baking cookies in the kitchen. It was fucking horrible. He just stayed in bed, looking at the ceiling, at the shadow pattern the sun made coming through his window, the little glo-at-dark stars his father put up when he was three, a project that according to his mother took them a month since he wanted actual accuracy so he could later teach Danny astronomy inside his room just like he did. Listening to the stupid birds chirp outside his window and wasn't it almost December already? All the birds should've flown south by this time of the year. Maybe that stupid sanctuary was keeping them close, like they couldn't leave. Just like him. He didn't feel any different. He didn't feel anything surging through his veins or any of his senses heightened or even knowing about something before it was supposed to happen. No, he just felt like a teenager who had lost his boyfriend because he stupidly decided to defend him against three damn witches that wanted to turn him into some sort of magical slave. "Danny! Danny!" He suddenly heard someone screaming at the top of his lungs, a desperate cry of solitude and anger. A second later his mother was hugging him, trying to pin him in place, trying to make sure he was not going to fall of the bed due to the trashing. It had been him who screamed. It took him a good chunk of time to settle down again. He could see the worry in his mother's eyes, and hear the air coming out of his grandather's lungs in a shudder, too afraid of what he had done. For him. He just stared at the ceiling again, memories of the very few moments he had shared with Alex floating in front of his eyes. When they had finally kissed for the first time. When Alex had called him one night at midnight to dorkily recite all the facts he thought were wrong with the World History paper they were doing. When they went out on their first date and Alex kept saying that the Sushi was disgusting while eating it happily, sashimi after sashimi. When he had been too afraid of the Halloween ghosts and had told him about his life in the little apartment he had downtown. When they had shared bed, and Alex had made him seen heaven. And now he was in hell. The wolf was coming. He knew who it was before he had even reached the door. He didn't care. He could hear his mother yelling at Scott, and Scott trying to plead with her, all behind the gates he was not allowed to cross. He put the pillow on top of his ears and tried to muffle everything out but the wind seem to carry their voices even if he could not understand the words that were spoken, just the tones of their fight. He heard the door slam and his mother cry. He heard Scott leave and the wolf whine. He heard the moon call to him and he hid under the blankets more. "Daniel." His father was not a moonsinger. It was something akin to a dominant genetic trait, always inherited, and he got it from his mother. They had met in San Francisco where she was visiting a client of hers and he lived as a highly ranked programmer for one of the companies in Palo Alto. The two fell in love in the Wharf and he followed her back to Beacon Hills because he could do his job from anywhere - even managing to improve the company's communication protocols. He had bought the house she always wanted and they had settled down. When granddad had the hip accident that forced him to be permanently cared for he immediately told his mother that he would have her father move in with them and help with taking care of Danny even if he was already a stay-at-home dad, making sure he satisfied his curiosity in every single endeavor, including why he could sometimes know when a branch was going to fall or now where exactly he should put his hand to catch a ball when he and his father played catch. When they sat down with him and explained he was not normal he had been angry, but that had been because his powers started to show around the same time he started questioning his sexuality and was afraid of not being normal. Jackson had been his only friend back then, before he forced him to join in sports, where he found a very good outlet for his abilities. He was a very good goalie. "What?" "I'm sorry." "Yeah, me too." "Do you...?" "No. I don't want to talk about it." "Do you want to talk about something?" "No." Danny already knew his father would still enter his room and sit on the chair in the corner, with either his iPad or a book and just be there with him. His mother was still baking - it was her way to cope with stress. At some point they would all have to talk about it. His father stayed with him until it got dark. Until the moon started shining through his room again, just like it had did in Alex's room. His boyfriend loved sleeping with the moonlight on his skin, saying that it reminded him of the times when he used to sleep outside with his father when they were in the sites. "Close the curtains. Close the curtains, please." His father stood up and closed every single curtain in the room, burying the room in darkness. No matter how dark it got, Danny still felt the moonlight on his skin. "Daniel." His father always called him by his full name. He could hear the edge in his voice, signaling that it was enough bed time. Two days without leaving his room were enough for his father to let him grief. "Yes, dad?" "Get up. You are having breakfast with us. If you want to come back up here I won't stop you, but I won't let you starve yourself." His mother would've brought up the food but he would not have touched it. His father knew him too well - if he were in front of them, he'd have to eat. He didn't bother to change his clothes or do his hair, he just followed his father down the stairs onto the kitchen table, where an assortment of breakfast foods and baked goods was available for him. His grandfather was sitting in one chair, and his mother was still playing with the pots and pans over the stove. "Daniel - " "Dad, no - " "Danny - " "Mom, please." "I thought you wanted to know that Alex's lawyer is in town, and it's arranging for Alex's funeral. Apparently Alex had already told him about you, since he came to my office yesterday." "When is it?" "Monday. Mr. Stoikovich said that in your honor he'll keep the body here for one day, then it'll be transported back to Connecticut, where he'll be buried in the family's mausoleum." "OK." "Do you want to go?" "He died defending me, mom. Of course I want to go." "The funeral is open. The pack may show up." "I..." Danny looked back at them, at his mom and his dad and his grandpa, and they all looked back at him. "Does it matter?" "Danny, you need to understand... You are shining now. Your power is evident - " "I don't feel any different." "That's because the power has always been part of you. Part of us. But we've always kept it down. Think of it as breathing differently because we had a heart condition. We've always been too careful, because anything could trigger the condition, but that has made our breathing too controlled, to precise. You triggered the condition, so now you can breathe freely, but -" "But every single magical creature in the vicinity will want to enslave me, yeah, I know." "Danny..." "What?" "Danny - I," his grandpa looked forlorn, but resolved, "I need you to understand that what you've done, while perfectly commendable, has put you in a lot of risk. We've been hiding our abilities for years because of reasons you wouldn't be able to understand." "Really? Do you understand them, grandpa? Wasn't it you who told me the last moonsinger to be seen active was over a thousand years ago?" "Yes, I did, and yes, I do. We are weapons, Danny, weapons to the magical world." "I am. Not you." His mother looked scandalized, his father looked sad. His grandfather just sighed. "You are a weapon now, to the magical world. And worse - you are coveted." "Can't I just go back?" "No. The moon is a jealous mistress - she gave you this power to protect your boyfriend, but now you have to honor her." "Well, this sucks, since I wasn't even able to protect him right." "Danny..." "What? What do you want me to say? Here we are, sitting down discussing my future because you think I did this out of a reckless impulse when I was trying to save my boyfriend!" "You barely knew him!" "He fought for me, mom! What did you want me to do? To let him die?" "So you could live a normal life!" "You raised me better than that!" "Leilani, Daniel, please stop," it had been a while since his father had to play the voice of reason, "the question here is not if you did right or wrong, Danny, because as much as it hurts us that you have put yourself in this situation, we know you did right. The question here is what you want to do now." "What do you mean?" "Beacon Hills is not safe anymore. Don't you dare think that it was only those three witches who were after you - I've done my research, and the scope of what we saw with that ghost summoning spell your mother described to me, we are talking a powerful coven. The sanctuary that was recently awoken is attracting creatures like flies to a rotten corpse, and there is also that pack of wolves that you tend to hang out with. We need to decide if we are going to stay here, or if we are going to go." "Go? Run away?" "I'm afraid so." "Where?" "Somewhere where there are no magical creatures. Cities are out of the question - we'd have to move to the country, maybe to state like Montana or Wyoming, where the low population density decreases the chance of encountering someone who would want to take advantage of you." "What about mom's job? What about your job? What about my friends? College? I'm a junior now - I'm supposed to be looking at colleges, not thinking of hiding away!" "I'm sorry." "This is what I am talking about, Daniel. Your life is not yours anymore. You've opened a can of worms. We also need to talk about your training." "Training?" "You are a loose cannon. There are records of what we can do and how we can do it but there is no one who has practiced the arts that can teach you. We'll have to comb through them and you'll have to train yourself." "What if I don't? What if I just go back and ignore it? Wouldn't it go away, like a muscle that is not used atrophies?" "No. The moon will drive you to use it. If you don't keep it in check you could lose yourself to your own magic. You need to control it." "So you are telling me that I got the short stick of this deal between me and the moon?" "We tried to warn you, Danny." "Oh, shut up, grandpa. Shut up all of you!" Danny stood up and ran away from the table until he found himself in his room again, all locked up. His mother had trailed him but he had closed the door before she could reach him and after several bangs he could hear her slide down the door and cry. He sat on the other side, unable to say anything, unable to feel any comfort or joy, just fear. 


	6. Scott

He needed to think this time, so he had taken the bike. Isaac was on the back, but they never talked when they got to school this way. They got off and waited for Stiles to park and Allison and Lydia to get off Allison's Mazda. Before any of them could say anything they all saw Danny get off his car and walk hurriedly, avoiding them. Lydia is the one that looked more heartbroken and Scott couldn't help but stroke her hair, trying to comfort her. "Why won't he talk to us?" "He's afraid of us. You can see it, don't you?" "He's no different. He's always shined like that, when he smiled." "Yeah, well, now he doesn't need to smile to shine, that's for sure." "Stiles, not now." "Sorry." They all followed Danny with their eyes, and Scott decided to go after him. No matter how much he called him or how close he got it seemed that Danny could always escape him, until Scott was stopped by a cold hand. "McCall, don't." "Greenberg?" "He's not in a good place right now, and what you need the least is to antagonize him." "He's grieving, he needs a friend!" "I know, but he doesn't want you. I can see it in his aura." "Do you know what he is? A moonsinger or whatever?" "No. I do see it, but I have no idea what it means. He wasn't like this before." "Alex died. Something happened then." "I know." "Did you - did you see his soul leave or something?" "I don't see those things, Scott. I'm just here to haunt Finstock, nothing else." "Sorry." "No worries." Greenberg melted into the crowd, like he would always do, and Scott went back to his pack. They already knew he hadn't managed to get to Danny and dispersed to class. He followed Lydia like a puppy, trying to comfort her, and Stiles followed him, trying to comfort him. Allison and Isaac followed on the sideways. The crowds parted to them like they had started to do, like they were some sort of gang everybody feared. It had started ever since they had sent Ms. Blake to jail - ever since they had started to actively move as pack. Ever since he had become their alpha. And now he was useless because he couldn't protect Danny. School had never been this dull to them - even Stiles looked bored. They all tried to sneak glances at Danny but he purposely sat on the back during any class he shared with him so it would look suspicious. The teachers mentioned that Alex's wake would be that afternoon and that everyone was invited to attend. The lacrosse team all went to Danny to give him their condolences, and the band followed immediately after. Everybody liked Danny. Nobody really knew him. They all dispersed and went back to their houses to get ready. The wake was to happen in the old funeral house - supposedly Alex's lawyer had rented it for twenty four hours. Not many people showed up, or stayed. At the center of everything was Danny and everybody who knew him came to him and gave him their condolences. Scott felt out of place in that old suit he had worn to the winter formal - ill fitting now that he had gained so much mass for feeding the wolf. His mother looked spectacular like always and Isaac had managed to not slouch in his peacoat and dark pants. Stiles was quiet next to his father, who was wearing a suit that smelled of dust and staleness. Scott knew that suit very well - it was the suit he had seen him wear when Stiles' mom had died. Allison and her father were a little behind in their dark ensembles. Lydia just looked regal, even if the outfit was so similar to the one she wore to Aiden's funeral, something about the way she moved gave her more power. Danny barely spoke to any of them when they gave him their condolences, out of social responsibility more than anything else. He still avoided physical contact with any of them and it was obvious that Lydia was heartbroken when he denied her a hug. Danny's family watched them carefully, like they were expecting them to spring onto him or something. People came and went. By nightfall only them and Danny's family remained. It was obvious that they would never leave their son alone so Scott stood up and his pack followed him. "I can't - I need to talk to him. I'm staying." "Lydia..." "I don't care if I have to stand in my heels all night. I'm talking to him. I can't just leave him like that - he's my friend." Scott sighed. They still needed to investigate the other three - they had been claimed by a lawyer and somehow their records had gotten sealed. They were not even able to get names - they hadn't had ID's on them and the only witness was still not talking to them. "If you are staying I'm staying - I'll hide nearby, in case anything happens." "Do you want any of us to stay, Scott?" "I will," Stiles immediately spoke up, "out of all of us, us three are the ones who knew Danny the most, even if it was because Jackson made our lives hell and Danny was there trying to stop him. I'll stay with you." "Alright." Allison took Lydia's car and everybody left, just Stiles' jeep hidden in the darkness. Lydia went inside and the two boys hid in the woods, in a position where they could see everything and not be seen. Some time later, Danny's family came out without him, so they assumed that Lydia had finally gotten her opening and was finally talking to Danny. "You know what's weird? We are outside of the funeral of a guy we've met for only a couple of months. I mean, I get it that we are teenagers and stuff bud Danny, he lost it for him. I wonder how much they fell for each other for Alex to be willing to kill for him." "Well, you and Allison were pretty intense. And I did have a huge crush on Lydia." "That's my point. Yours was a crush. It took me a while before I could say I loved Allison, remember?" "Er, no, it took you two months. She was your anchor by your second full moon - and when you broke up you went into a murderous rampage." "I guess..." Scott wondered what was going on inside. He just wanted to talk to Danny, to let him know that whatever had happened they were there for him, to protect him, to let him join the pack if he wanted to. That they didn't care that he was a moonsinger or anything. Maybe he was being insensitive. He had never had a loved one die, and Danny now had two, and a friend who abandoned him when things got hairy. It was stupid - they had all liked Danny so much they had kept him at arms length, like a toy nobody wanted to break. Like a human they didn't want to find dead. "What are you thinking about?" "We kept Danny away because we wanted to protect him, but it seems he has always known. And now he won't even look at us. It completely backfired on us." "You think he'll never talk to us or something?" "Maybe. Maybe he'll decide to turn against us. To go to my dad or to go to the witches - I don't know. God, why was I so stupid!" "You weren't, Scott. We all were. We all were trying to keep Danny safe. It's your mom, my dad all over again. Next time we'll just let the person coming to try and join us know that we are a bunch of freaks." Stiles laugh was hollow and bitter. It was cold, so Scott took his jacket and gave it to him. Stiles just took it silently. "You know, Scott - I wonder. What if I hadn't told you about the body in the woods? Peter wouldn't have bitten you and we wouldn't be here right now." "But everything would've still happened, Stiles." "Yeah, but not to us." "Are you so sure? The Nemeton chose us for a reason." "Yeah, yeah - we were meant to be. What if I had taken the bite when Peter offered it? What if I had died when Gerard kidnapped me?" "Then I'd be in a ditch right now. You know I wouldn't have survived without you, right?" "Shut up, Scotty." "Not until you beam me up." They both laughed. The darkness inside them recoiled - it hated when they were happy. God, Scott missed being happy so much he knew it wouldn't last. He hated being right - Danny's scream echoed through the night. 


	7. Lydia

Lydia strutted through the halls of the parlour. She knew her heels were audible and she fully expected the Mahealanis to not welcome her. She didn't care - she was Lydia Martin and if she wanted to talk to Danny she'd do it, even if she had to yell at his family. So when she opened the door and she saw Danny's parents and grandfather look at her warily - Danny was standing next to the casket, a hand caressing the glass on top of it - she held her chin up. "Lydia, what are you doing here?" "I need to talk to Danny, Mrs. Mahealani. Now." "Lydia, I'm pretty sure you understand," Lydia knew what she was going to say and instead of making her back down it gave her more strength. This was Danny who they were talking about - he had been family to her far longer than Scott or Stiles or Allison, she was not going to back down just because they were afraid of her. "This is not the moment - " "Maka." Danny's grandfather had been looking at her all the time, and she saw the fear show in his face. If Danny was something someone else in his family had to be as well, and it seemed that the old man could detect what she was. Mrs. Mahealani looked at him and asked him about his expression. He just shook his head and Mr. Mahealani grabbed his wife's hand, evidently seeing something he didn't understand. "Daniel, we'll be outside if you need us." "Go home. You guys need to rest." "You need to rest too, baby." "I can't, mom. Not until I see him buried." "Danny." "Don't worry. She won't hurt me. I'll be fine." Danny hadn't turned or looked or moved when he said all that. Lydia couldn't read his expression because she couldn't see his expression. It unnerved her like anything had before. The Mahealanis left the room stopping just so the eldest could make a sign of protection when he got close to her. It wasn't until they were alone that Danny spoke again. "I've never heard grandpa so afraid of anything, Lydia. What are you?" "A banshee. What are you?" She heard him swallow. He looked back at her, his gesture first fearful, then pensieve, comprehension dawning in his visage. "You wailed for him." "Yes." "You know how he died." "Magic. A death curse. I felt his blood leaving his body through every orifice. It was like having a million worms sliding out of my eyes, my mouth, my fingernails," Danny looked positively grossed, and he stepped down the dais to sit in a chair and let it all sink in, "Stiles felt it too, you know? We don't know why, but ever since he became one of the guardians of the Nemeton he's been feeling the deaths the same way I do." "Why did he do it? Why did you guys do it? Didn't you know -?" "Their parents were going to die, Danny. Wouldn't you have done the same?" "I - I did." Danny was looking back to the coffin. Lydia walked closer and put a hand on his shoulder. He didn't flinch or recoiled. But he did close his eyes, a tear coming out of them. "What is going on Danny? Why won't you talk to me, to us? What did we do to you?" "You truly don't know? What I am?" "We keep hearing the word moonsinger thrown around, and we've heard what people call tales and myths and legends. We don't know what to believe, and you won't talk to me." "I keep thinking that you want me to join your pack, that you want to use me." "Do you really think that low of us? Of me?" "I'm sorry. I don't. No, yes, I do - and I shouldn't. I'm sorry." He didn't say anything, and she didn't press him. She couldn't help but notice how the room was perfectly bathed in moonlight even if there were curtains over the tiny windows. Moonlight that was seeking him. "How do you do it, Lydia?" "How do I do what, Danny?" "How do you live with it? Being a Banshee?" "Danny, I've barely been a banshee for a few months. I can't even control my powers. I don't even know my powers. I only start screaming at the top of my lungs when it's too late." "Months...? When did you - The winter formal." "Yes." "Scott already had the mark of the wolf then. Was he -?" "Who forced my awakening? No - it was Peter Hale." "Who's that?" "You don't need to know." She felt Danny shudder. And then she felt him cry. It started slow, just a couple of tears, but it blew into full sobbing in mere seconds. She held her grip on his shoulder tightly, and when he finally grabbed her hand she didn't let go - she tried to be to him the anchor she had been for Stiles. "I'm scared, Lydia. I'm really scared. I'm supposed to be too valuable to be alive - anything with an inkling of magic will want to have something to do with me. I'm a moonsinger, a priest of the moon - I can increase or diminish someone's magical abilities, and that's what makes me so precious," Lydia couldn't help but feel fear and anger at his words, "and now I've become a freaking magical commodity and I don't want to! I want to be me, Lydia, to have my own autonomy - not to belong to a wizard or a vampire or a werewolf! Why do you think I'm so afraid of your little pack - because I know that at some point you'll make me join you and I don't want to! Not under duress, not under coercion, not under anything! I want to be able to make my own choices, Lydia, is that much to ask?" "Scott would never -" "Scott's eyes are crimson red, Lydia, he'll do anything to protect his pack. He's already killed to become an alpha, what do you think will stop him from binding me to him?" "He... He's never killed anyone, Danny - not even Blake when she wanted to kill me and Derek Hale." "You are fucking with me. Are you telling me that that puppy is a god damned True Alpha? A thing of legends? That's ridiculous." "Well, think about it - do you really think that Scott McCall would ever kill anyone? Poor kid couldn't open a frog with a scalpel." "Poor kid couldn't breathe when he was trying to open a frog with a scalpel, Lydia, but now he's the captain of the lacrosse team - and you don't know how much can the wolf change the man." "I've seen him, Danny. He saved my life when Jackson almost killed me. He's saved me again and again, and Stiles, and even Jackson when he was still an asshole to him. He never gave up, and he'll never give up. That wolf is still Scott McCall and I believe in him. And I can assure you - he doesn't want you for his pack, he just wants you to be OK." "I'll never be OK." "Well, Danny, I die every time I scream - so you can join the club, I'll let you be treasurer, and order shirts and all that crap." That had been so ridiculously absurd - and so unlike her and much more like Stiles - that Danny couldn't help but laugh, and a second later they were hugging each other and crying in each other's shoulders. They let themselves be human for a while, just crying until there were no more tears. "C'mon, you look awful. Scott and Stiles are outside - they wouldn't leave me here alone - but I hold the car privileges, and they can run back. I can take you home." "I don't wanna leave him alone in here." "He's not gonna go anywhere." Danny just nodded and let her take him up - difficult when she's so much smaller than him - and they walked towards the door. "Do you hear that?" She cocked her head, trying to hear something. There it was, a light tapping, like knuckles on glass. She looked to the windows, but the noise came from the dais. From inside the coffin. A fist shattered through the glass cover. Lydia lost her voice. Danny started screaming at the top of his lungs. She immediately tried to put the boy behind her, trying to offer some sort of protection against whatever the fuck was coming out of that coffin. Scott and Stiles entered the room running and screaming their names. They also saw the movement in the dais and immediately put themselves in the way, Stiles flailing and panicking, Scott letting his claws come out but not in full werewolf mode, and Lydia knew it was because he didn't want to scare Danny more. The hand kept bashing the glass until it seemed to have removed all of it. Both hands could be seen gripping the gasket, and the torso of Alexandros Karahalios rose, gasping for air. He looked at them, curious, but before he (Was it still Alex? Was it still a he?) could say anything he started retching and convulsing. Sludge in a purplish red color started coming out of his mouth and ears and eyes and the seizures got so violent the coffin fell from the dais onto the floor, landing half on top of Alex, who paroxysmally tried to remove it from his back like it was the shell of a particularly heavy turtle, all while leaking embalming fluids from every hole on his body from his nose to his ass and letting it pool on the floor. He grabbed one of the shards and took it to his neck and sliced it open, a spray of aldehydes splashing everywhere and his body falling limpily on the floor. 


	8. Scott (II)

Nobody said anything. Nobody could say anything - what did you say after seeing a body fall from a coffin convulsing while a disgustingly smelling fluid seemed to come from every hole in it? What did you say after you saw it kill itself again by slitting its own throat? Nothing, you just stood there trying to figure if you had finally snapped and gone crazy. "What just happened? Lydia?" "Why do you ask me, Stiles?" "Because you are the genius?" "I have no idea!" Her voice had been so high it was barely audible. Scott was sure that if he said anything his own voice would sound exactly like that. "Scott?" "What?" "Aren't you going to check it out?" "Why me?" "Because you are the alpha!" "Stiles!" He felt Stiles' push on his back and he walked forward, claws fully extended, the wolf in him completely afraid of whatever was going on. He approached the body cautiously, but stopped - the stench of the chemicals was too strong and they were pooling all over the body. Oh, and the body jumped like a fish out of water. He jumped backwards and he was pretty sure his was not the only scream. Were there no security guards? No security cameras that would alert the building security that there was a freaking body moving? A body of someone who had been declared dead days ago? The body moved again, but now it was lazily, more controlled, less reflexive. Weakly, he managed to crawl out of the coffin, letting the sludge soak up in its very fancy clothes, ruining the shiny shoes, clutching the shard of glass and letting it pierce the skin, drawing out more chemicals until he seemed to be dry. He looked at them and it was so weird to see an expression of utter contempt in that scarred face that usually looked afraid or sweet that it seemed wrong, the one thing out of place - a place that included what apparently seemed to be a zombie in a pool of embalming solution. However, the body suddenly fixed his gaze on the boy behind Lydia and tried to quake his name. After a couple of futile attempts he grabbed his neck and tried to close the wound it had just self inflicted a couple of minutes ago. "Danny..." Scott looked inside himself and summoned his eyes. The body immediately crawled back and raised the shard as a weapon, but it was evident it was so weak Scott didn't need to fear being attacked by it. But apparently he needed to fear being able to kill it. "Who are you?" The creature seemed to study him for a minute, but it was looking at Danny what made him move. He took his jacket off and proceeded to rip a strip of fabric with the shard, wrapping it around its neck so tightly it seemed he would choke. But then Scott remembered that the thing was moving after being dead, so it probably didn't need to breath. After three turns and what looked like a particularly painful knot he started taking air in again and the wheezing was muffled. He started making noises until he was satisfied he could produce speech. "What... are you... doing here? And who... the hell... had me embalmed?" "Dude, we asked first?" "Really... Stiles? I'm Alex... Alexandros... Karahalios... You know... your friend? If that's... what I am..." "No, Alex died last week when he and Danny were attacked by witches. Who are you?" Alex's face reminded him of a picture he had seen once online - about not giving a fuck. "How long... was I out?" "You mean how long were you dead?" "Yeah... yeah." "Three days." "Three days...? Zeus above... now I'm... fucking Jesus," Alex suddenly spasmed in pain and touched his face, trying to feel the burn scars under it. Scott saw that the burnt flesh that was hidden under the layers of make up started to heal - slower than a werewolf, yes, but healing nonetheless, "Stupid... formalin... it's not... letting me heal... properly..." "Technically is not formalin - that was stopped being used as an embalming agent around fifty years ago." "Seriously, Lydia, do you really think that's important right now? Can we focus?" Stiles looked back at Alex and muttered, "He reads old. That's what Finstock said - that he was old - that you are old! How old are you?" "Seventeen..." "Oh, don't you dare!" Alex just smirked at him. "Fine! How long have you been seventeen, and don't say for a while!" "Twenty five... hundred... years... give or... take... a century..." He spasmed again and Scott could smell the embalmings leaving his body, making way for new tissues and blood. "I'm assuming... that since... Scott is a cur... this... is not... the first time you... encounter... the supernatural." "Cur?" "Werewolf..." "That's offensive." "It's not... like... I'm trying... to impress you," He stopped to steady his breathing - it was obvious that he was still letting too much air through the wound on his neck, "but I do have... to ask... what... are you doing here?" "It's your funeral." "I meant... what are you... doing here now...? It's well... into the night... I would've expected no... one here so I could... come back... and then claim a... medical mistake..." "This is not the first time that this has happened to you?" "I... said I was... twenty five hundred years old. Trust me... when I say... I've... died several times." "So you're what, Jack Harkness?" "Wait, you watch Doctor Who, Lydia?" "Stiles, don't make it a thing." "Did you see the episode -" "Stiles!" Stiles backed when he heard Scott's alpha voice. Alex noticed the movement - he hadn't even blinked, paying too much attention to their dynamics. "You... two are... wolves... too?" "No," Scott answered, ignoring Stiles face and Lydia's concern, "they are my friends, and I take care of them." "Ah... yeah... right... what's that word...? Pack..." The way he said it, almost spitting it out, like it was an insult, managed to anger the wolf inside Scott so much he had to breathe in deeply in order not to go and rip out his throat again. "So I... just died to... save... the life of... a singer that... already... had a wolf... to protect him...? Did... I die... for nothing?" Everybody recoiled and his pack immediately looked at Danny. His face had broken - if he had managed to keep it together for the exchange, now he looked betrayed, like the only thing that had kept him standing had been swept off his feet and now there was nothing for him to hold on. Danny stepped backwards and then started running. Scott immediately ordered Stiles after him and Lydia was running too, her feet already out of the heels that imprisoned them. He turned back to Alex, letting the wolf out - making sure that thing understood who he was and what he was willing to do to protect his pack. Alex just snorted. "Sure... he is... more important... He's... a singer... Go after... him... Scott...! Bind him...! Make... him your... slave...! You've already... killed to gain power... this you... don't... have to kill... just make... him... obey your every... whim...!" Scott growled but stayed back - he still didn't know what Alex was and he could not just jump at it and try to kill him. For all he knew biting him would kill him. "Where were... you... by the way... when... he and... I... were being... attacked by witches...? Where is that... need... to protect your... pack... from every attacker...? Isn't it... part of the... binding... the need to protect... the singer that... gives you... abilities only a... true alpha would... be capable... of...?" Scott felt the wolf inside him ready to rip him to shreds, but Scott knew better. "He isn't pack. He wasn't pack. We made sure he never was so he would be safe, away from all the problems we run into. You said so yourself, that we kept him in the outskirts - that's why." Alex's face fell. "Shit... Shit, shit, shit...! Damn... it!" He tried to stand up but his legs were still too weak and couldn't support him, "Danny...!" More embalming fluid came out of his mouth and the slip and fall made a shard ripped the cloth on his neck. He looked like a badly designed pez dispenser, leaking from the neck down. Scott saw that the borders of the wound were ripped apart again - they had already been healing. Alex grabbed his neck again closing the wound as much as possible. "Go... Get out... get out... GET OUT!" It was obvious that yelling pained him and Scott's wolf seemed satisfied with it. After all, Scott had something more important to do. He had to check on his friend. 


	9. Epilogue

Aurelius Stoikovich kept writing on his laptop. He had to finish the report on the Yzzar case before he met with the FBI agents that seemed to populate this little town like roaches, unless he wanted to bill the old Lebanese family a couple more hours. He had made his fame as the most efficient lawyer in the New York office of Florrick, Agos and Associates for avoiding situations like this one, but he had not foreseen being on the West Coast dealing with such a personal case. It was true that as a partner he could've assigned someone else to do his traveling, but dealing with this particular client's affairs were much more than just signing a few papers and organizing some boxes and he needed to monitor everything to the tiniest detail. He had already slipped up greatly by not managing to impede the embalming of the body - his client was going to be furious at him. He was not going to get his bonus. Well, he could do without it. It's not like he had a family to provide for. He finished his report with twenty minutes to spare, so he went down and decided to walk to their place of meeting. The Bed and Breakfast where he was staying, while cozy, lacked a proper meeting room and he was sure the FBI would want to keep their discussion a little bit discreet, so they had agreed on Le Maurier, a french restaurant nestled in what could barely be called the downtown of the little town. At least it had a private room where they would be able to confer. Aurelius let himself feel the wind on his face. He didn't like it much, to let himself look human, vulnerable - a stern face usually gained more in a court house. But this was so far from home and so detached from his usual crowd that he didn't feel it could affect him much. Yes, it was an awful image to bear, that of the robotic detached lawyer that cared more for the letter of the law than the feelings of his clients, but he had got so used to wear that mask it no longer felt foreign on his face. It was also true that there were great forces stirring in this town. He hoped his client wouldn't want to make him stay - unlike what most people think, it's easier to hide among the crowds than in an empty field. Although whatever was singing sweetly in his ears made the temptation of staying great. The hostess at the restaurant received him with a smile and he smiled back, a cool gesture that only proved he was polite, nothing more. She guided him inside and he ordered a glass of white wine. He didn't like reds - too dry for him. He knew the FBI agent - McCall, was it? - would not be on time. They usually never were, using the gesture as a way to assert their power. Aurelius knew they were but mere cogs in a bigger machinery - the true power was hidden behind the curtains, behind the veil. And he had done what was possible for him to remain hidden from those behind the curtain, but he knew part of the reasons he had been hired at the firm was that he understood the supernatural, and they needed someone to take care of that particular account. "Mr. Stoikovich, I apologize." "No worries, Agent McCall, I was just exploring the menu." "If I may, you should try the escargot." "Have you been here before?" "Several times. I used to live in Beacon Hills a long time ago." That had been unexpected. Not that he particularly cared. Both men ordered their food and waited for it to arrive. The talk started inconsequential, mostly about things a lawyer from a prominent East Coast firm and a FBI agent could talk about. They were skirting around the edges of their real meeting, waiting to not be distracted by the act of removing the flesh from the shells or savoring it. When they were done with their meal, they looked at each other, neither willing to do the first move. Aurelius knew it was a fight he would not win, but it was easy to make the agent believe he had been broken down by his steely gaze and far more preferable than to have the agent in the defensive since the beginning. "Agent McCall, let's cut down to the chase. We are here because I need to recover some items for my client, and those items are currently in your possession." "What would that be?" "Mainly an antique sword cane, black with steel rings, silver handler. I believe it's been held as a possible murder weapon in the assassination of three John Does." "You are correct, Mr. Stoikovich. I'm pretty sure you understand then why I can't just release it." "I understand clearly, Agent McCall, but I also hope that you understand that we are not talking about a normal investigation here. I am pretty sure your superiors informed you of that when they made you take over the case." McCall didn't say anything, but Aurelius could feel the anger bubbling inside of him. For a man with extensive training in emotion control Aurelius was finding him hilariously easy to read, like a teenager who would wear his heart on his sleeve. "Yes... they did. However, I would like to know more about the situation. After all, I can't appear incompetent to the local authorities." "Ah, yes, well - the case is solved, agent. You had four bodies, three killed by the weapon and the fourth dead by poisoning - isn't that what the morgue concluded after extensive research?" "Yes." "Then it's easy - a fight, three on one - they managed to poison the owner of the sword while he was defending himself from them. He killed them in self defense - it has happened with guns a lot of times." "He was not carrying a gun, he was wielding a sword cane, an illegal instrument in California." "I can assure you the deceased had all the paperwork." "And how would you know that? Did you represent him, too?" "In a manner, yes. So, the cane, agent McCall?" Aurelius couldn't help but cock his head at the expression of the FBI agent. There was something inside of him - and since he didn't have much time, he decided to use his abilities to find out what. A sense of worry for someone he loved. "I need a better reason, Mr. Stoikovich." "You are looking for reassurance, Agent McCall, that my client won't come to your house and kill your family? I can assure you it won't happen." "How did you know that?" "I'm an empath, Agent McCall, and you are a particularly emotional person." McCall's face turned a deep crimson, embarrassment coloring his cheeks. "You seem too detached to be an empath." "I learned the hard way that the law is a very emotional field of work. If I let my clients emotions take over me I would've succumbed to them quite early in my career." "Why does your client want the cane so much?" "It belongs to him." "That's not true - it's registered to Karahalios, and he's dead." Aurelius cellphone started ringing with a particular ringtone. "Not anymore." 


End file.
